


Burning Like a Flame

by Morgana_avalon



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 22:45:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18397886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana_avalon/pseuds/Morgana_avalon
Summary: Aragorn plays match maker and so Éomer and Legolas become lovers.





	Burning Like a Flame

Burning Like A Flame

 

"I feel something... A slight tingling in my fingers... I think it is affecting me..." Legolas wiggled his fingers, trying to familiarize himself with this strange sensation warming his fingertips. He had known from the start that this drinking contest was ill-fated, but had agreed to it for two reasons. Gimli had asked him to take part in the game and he had wanted to humor the Dwarf. Secondly, because it gave Éomer and him the chance to officially bury the bad feelings which had arisen after they had met that first time. Back then, his reaction to Éomer insulting Gimli had been to aim an arrow at the Rohirrim. The time had come to bury the hatchet and to move on.

 

Gimli’s eyes rolled back in their sockets and the Dwarf fell backwards.

 

“Game over?” asked Legolas, amused and at the same time relieved. He didn’t dare consider the consequences for his health had he been forced to continue drinking. This tingling sensation in his fingers was already alarming and the warmth continued to spread down his arm.

 

“Aye, it is over. You won.” Éomer hoped that his disappointment didn’t show. He had suggested holding a drinking contest for several reasons, but the most important one was that he had hoped that Legolas would end up rather intoxicated. But why exactly he had hoped for that result was unclear to him. His feelings – where Legolas were concerned – made little sense to him. When Legolas had aimed that arrow at him, he had felt nothing but resentment toward the arrogant Elf. But he had seen him fight Orcs and Uruk-Hai and he had witnessed the Elf’s deadly skills. Legolas was an accomplished warrior who had earned his respect in battle.

 

Seeing Éomer lost in thought made Legolas wonder what occupied the Man’s mind. Was the Rohirrim displeased that Gimli had lost? But why? What would Éomer gain by having Gimli win?

 

“Ah, you won?” Aragorn smiled at his friend. He knew from personal experience just how little effect ale had on the Firstborn. He had learned that the hard way when Elladan had challenged him to a drinking contest. Elrond had thankfully never found out about his heir’s pranks. Aragorn smiled, fondly remembering how drunk he had been. Although, the morning after he hadn’t been smiling any more. Thankfully, Glorfindel had taken pity on him and had excused him from the daily training session.

 

“But it *is* affecting me,” whispered Legolas, still wondering about the tingling. “Do you think its effect would increase if I drank more?”

 

“It might,” said Aragorn, chuckling, though, he doubted Legolas could drink enough to become truly drunk. Elves simply didn’t get drunk that easily. “Gimli will not like the fact that he lost to an Elf.”

 

Legolas laughed, softly. “Gimli and I have become good friends, Aragorn. I never thought that would happen.” Legolas followed his friend to a more secluded part of the room, where they sat down. From here, they had an excellent view of the partying people and a sense of wonder came over Legolas. “How can they make merry when so many died?” The Elves had held a farewell ceremony that morning, honoring their dead and saying goodbye to them. “The souls of the Firstborn travel to the Halls of Waiting, but only Ilúvatar knows what happens to the souls of Men.” Seeing Aragorn’s suddenly pained expression, he realized he had been untactful. “Forgive me, I meant…”

 

Aragorn raised his hand, silencing his friend. “I know you did not mean to offend me or worry me. Aye, I asked myself the same thing, Legolas. Do the souls of Men go on or simply fade? I will find out,” he added in a sad voice.

 

Legolas had grown uncomfortable, discussing this and tried to change their subject. “Look at them, Aragorn,” whispered Legolas, studying the Rohirrim. “They are proud people.”

 

“Aye.” Aragorn smiled, uncovered his pipe, and stuffed it. Maybe this was the right time to address a matter which puzzled him. “Éomer and you started off on the wrong foot. Has this changed? Or have these negative emotions become stronger?” He had to be discreet. He couldn’t just speak his mind!

 

“I would not call us friends yet, but we are enemies no more. Éomer is an honorable warrior and I would fight side by side with him every day.” Legolas found the Rohirrim standing beside Gimli, trying to wake the Dwarf from his ale-induced sleep. “He puzzles me, you know.”

 

“He does?” Maybe this was the opening he had been waiting for! “In what way?”

 

“He is much like you, Aragorn,” said Legolas, musing aloud and feasting on Éomer’s smile. “He is a leader among Men. He is an excellent swordsman, treats his men with respect and his horse likes him.”

 

Aragorn chuckled, hearing that last bit. “You talked to Éomer’s horse?”

 

“I was curious,” explained Legolas in a neutral voice.

 

“And do you still wish to learn more about him?” Aye, maybe he had been right about them!

 

“What else can you tell me?” Legolas did his best to ignore the fact that the smoke from Aragorn’s pipe was drifting his way and concentrated on following Éomer’s form when the Rohirrim dragged Gimli over to a suitable resting place. His eyes never left the Man’s form.

 

Aragorn exhaled and watched the smoke form shapes in the air. “He is Théoden’s successor.”

 

“But he isn’t the King’s son,” said Legolas, thoughtfully.

 

“His cousin, Théoden’s son, Théodred, died recently. This places Éomer in line of succession. When Théoden dies, Éomer will rule in his stead.” Aragorn smiled, pleased, seeing the interest with which his friend absorbed his information. “Legolas, maybe my imagination is playing tricks on me, but… I believe Éomer enjoys spending time with you.” Legolas’ eyes widened marginally, but Aragorn noticed it.

 

“He does?”

 

“The drinking game was his suggestion, wasn’t it?” Aragorn slowly moved in on his target – on what he really wanted to say.

 

“Aye, it was. I must confess I am curious to why he would want to us become drunk.” Legolas intercepted Éomer’s look, when the Rohirrim glanced about the room. Maybe it was the alcohol speaking, maybe not. “There is tenderness in his eyes – a gentle longing. I find it fascinating to watch him during those moments when he lets it show.”

 

A sparkle appeared in Aragorn’s eyes. “Legolas, has it ever occurred to you that Éomer might have his reasons to see you drunk?”

 

“And what might that be?” Curiously, Legolas leaned in closer and searched Aragorn’s eyes. He *knew* that look. Aragorn knew something he didn’t.

 

“I believe,” said Aragorn, slowly blowing the smoke high in the air, “that he finds you desirable.”

 

“Desirable?” Stunned, Legolas stared at his friend.

 

“Aye, he finds you attractive.” Aragorn gave his friend a wink. “And I think it is mutual. Isn’t it, meldir?”

 

Legolas was speechless. What had Aragorn implied just now?

 

“Legolas, be honest with yourself. The first time you meet, you aim an arrow at him. Then, you meet again during battle and your eyes follow him across the battlefield. He even distracted you! You missed one time when you aimed an arrow at an Orc!”

 

“I did not miss!” But he *had* missed because he had been worried for Éomer, whose back had been wide open at that moment. After all, they *had* lost Haldir that night.

 

“There is no shame in being in love, Legolas, but might I suggest you act upon it?”

 

“Love? Who says it is love? Maybe it is lust at best!”

 

Aragorn arched an eyebrow. /I know you better than that, Legolas. I know the Elves better than that. You could not lust after Éomer without having some feelings for him./

 

Legolas blinked once. “Do you truly believe he held this drinking contest in the hope for me to grow intoxicated?”

 

“Legolas, you are a good friend and I will speak freely. Éomer is bound by honor and station. He is a lonely man, because he is a leader. He cannot look to his soldiers for comfort.”

 

Legolas considered this. “Do you seriously believe that he is attracted to me?”

 

Aragorn extinguished his pipe and leaned in closer. “Meldir, I know you are not bound, why not take a chance at love?”

 

Legolas sobered immediately. “I was bound once, but he died in battle.”

 

Aragorn lowered his eyes. “I am sorry. I did not know you had suffered such a loss.”

 

“You know that is custom for Elves to choose a mate when they reach majority. So I did.” Legolas’ heart twitched, remembering unspeakable sorrow. “I loved him very much.”

 

“Maybe I counseled you wrongly,” whispered Aragorn, growing uncertain.

 

Legolas placed his hand on his friend’s and gave Aragorn a reassuring smile. “I do not take lovers lightly, meldir. If I take a mate I want to be with him until the end. Éomer is mortal, Aragorn. Should I follow your advice I would lose him within the next few decades. I suffered such a loss before.”

 

“And you survived,” replied Aragorn, boldly.

 

“I did,” whispered Legolas. “Let me consider this. Your suggestion is bold and I did not consider the attraction to be mutual. I must think this over.”

 

“Take all the time you need, Legolas. But please keep in mind that we ride into war shortly. War and death go hand in hand. Maybe you would like to know love once more before facing battle?”

 

Legolas’ right eyebrow climbed higher. “Why are you suggesting I act upon these feelings?”

 

“Because I know you are lonely, although I must admit that you hide it well. But you *are* looking for companionship. Why else would you allow Gimli into your heart? Do not dismiss Éomer too lightly, meldir, for I do think his love would be worthwhile.” Seeing Gandalf walk toward the dancing Hobbits, Aragorn rose from his chair, excused himself, and headed toward the Wizard.

 

Legolas remained behind, lost in thought and eyes once more trained on Éomer, who was unaware of the attention the Elf was paying him.

 

~~~

 

Legolas vexed him. The first time he had seen the Elf, Legolas had moved faster than the eye could see, and before he had known it, an arrow had been aimed at him. He had quickly realized that he was dealing with a skilled archer and swordsman, and yet, Legolas breathed elegance and grace, and above all, youth and frailty. The blond Elf looked like the wind could blow him away. All that was just an illusion, though. He had seen Legolas best Orcs and Uruk-Hai and would never make the mistake of underestimating him, and yet, at the same time, Éomer felt a being of such beauty and elegance couldn’t possess such strength. Legolas was a mystery.

 

Éomer sensed eyes upon him, and when he looked over his shoulder, he found that it was Legolas who was watching him whilst talking to Aragorn. He had noticed how close the two warriors were and wondered if he even had the smallest chance of befriending Legolas.

 

The drinking contest had been his idea. He didn’t know why he had suggested it. Maybe it was a way to get back at Legolas for aiming that arrow at him, but he suspected it was more. He had hoped Legolas would become intoxicated – then it might have been easier to approach Legolas. Éomer felt inferior, compared to Legolas, who was perfect in his eyes – maybe too perfect and therefore out of reach?

 

Éomer concentrated on hauling Gimli to a comfortable sleeping place. Looking about, he found that some soldiers had already fallen asleep and others were leaving to return to their wives and children. The evening had come to an end and it was time to retire to his rooms. He had only hoped he wouldn’t have to retire alone. A small part of him had hoped he would have had company tonight – Legolas’ company. /But that will never happen. I have to stop deluding myself./ He picked up a heavy, woolen cloak, draped it over his shoulders to fight off the cold and left the Hall.

 

~~~

 

Unbeknownst to Éomer a pair of sapphire eyes had followed his every move. Legolas rose from his chair and absentmindedly registered that the tingling sensation had disappeared. The effect the alcohol had originally had on him was gone now

 

/What do I do? What path do I choose? Do I accept this challenge? Or do I dismiss it?/

 

Was he ready to face his feelings and to take the first step in establishing a relationship?

 

~~~

 

Aragorn watched Legolas leave and smiled, brightly. He honestly thought that Legolas and Éomer were well-matched and well-suited for each other. He just hoped that Legolas would take the risk and the first step, for Éomer never would.

 

~~~

 

Éomer blinked. What was Legolas doing in this corridor? Hadn’t he left the Elf in the main Hall? And why was Legolas swaying on his feet? A hand, quite unsteady reached out and found support against a wall. Éomer reacted quickly and walked toward the Elf. “Is anything amiss?” Legolas was showing signs of intoxication, but when he had left the Elf, Legolas had been steady and his gaze sharp. What had happened?

 

“I must have… underestimated… its effect…” Legolas played his part, acting drunk and continued to sway. “I…do not like… this…” He had devised this way to test Éomer and find out the Man’s true character. Would the Rohirrim take advantage of him in his inebriated state? 

 

“Maybe it takes time for the alcohol to unfold its effect on an Elf?” whispered Éomer. His hands itched, wanted to steady Legolas, but at the same time, such a touch would bring temptation. “I will escort you to your rooms.”

 

Legolas raised a trembling hand. “Nay… too far away… I need… to lie… down.” He brought one hand to his brow and rubbed his left temple. “My head hurts.” He hoped he wasn’t overdoing it, as he didn’t want Éomer to grow suspicious.

 

“My rooms are near by,” said Éomer, finally reaching out and wrapping an arm around Legolas’ shoulder. His heart sped up, feeling subtle skin beneath the light fabric. “Allow me to guide you.”

 

“Please…” Legolas ensured his steps were hesitant and wobbly and he allowed Éomer to guide him down the corridor. The Rohirrim’s body heat reached him even through the fabric of their clothes and he realized Aragorn was right – the attraction *was* mutual.

 

Whilst keeping Legolas balanced, Éomer opened the door. He carefully maneuvered his charge inside and decided to head for the bed. It was best if Legolas could lie down to rest. He would create a sleeping place on the floor for himself later. Strangely enough, he didn’t feel pleased that his plan had worked after all. Seeing Legolas in this state made him cross with himself for ever suggesting the drinking contest!

 

“Please lie down.” Éomer assisted Legolas and raised his feet so his charge could rest comfortably.

 

So far, Éomer had passed the test, but Legolas was going to raise the odds. He slipped his fingers beneath his collar and gave the Rohirrim a pleading look. “Feel hot.”

 

Oh… Éomer hadn’t seen that one coming. “I cannot undress you!” In his fantasies he had removed Legolas’ clothing many times, but now that he faced the real challenge, he found he couldn’t continue. It would be too easy to overstep boundaries and to take advantage of his charge. But Legolas’ pleading expression remained and in the end, he loosened the collar and unbuttoned the shirt. However, he didn’t remove it.

 

“Is there anything else you need?” Legolas didn’t reply and Éomer recalled that Elves slept with their eyes wide open, so Legolas *could* be asleep at this point. “I am sorry,” he whispered, by now convinced that Legolas had given into the alcohol-induced fatigue. “I did not want for this to happen. Aye, I want you in my bed, but not in this way.” His hand had found its way into the fair hair and he fingered the silken strands. Everyone attending the feast had taken great care to clean up and Legolas’ skin almost glowed golden.

 

“You are the biggest temptation I ever faced, Legolas…” A temptation, which he had to withstand, and yet, he found himself leaning in closer and pressing a kiss onto the soft lips. “You are out of my league, Legolas.” Éomer forced himself to rise from the bed and to leave Legolas’ side. The longer he remained, the stronger the urge would become to touch the fair Elf more intimately.

 

Legolas forced away the smile that threatened to surface on his face. Éomer’s whispered confession had answered most of his questions. Carefully, he watched the Rohirrim move through the room, taking off his clothes and hauling some bedding onto the floor to sleep on. /He is an honorable Man. Éomer would not take advantage of someone weaker – someone entrusted to his care./ The Rohirrim would make a good mate – and an honorable one. But Éomer was also mortal and giving in to these feelings now would cause him pain and sorrow later. How many years had Éomer left? The Rohirrim would grow old, gray and weak. /We would be happy for a short while and then he would start to slowly die./

 

Éomer cast a look at him and Legolas carefully schooled his emotions. The Rohirrim was convinced he was asleep and Legolas had to act the part.

 

Legolas looked utterly desirable, resting on his bed, with his golden hair fanned on the pillow and Éomer wanted nothing more than to take him in his arms and to hold him.

 

Reading that sentiment in Éomer’s hazel eyes, Legolas stirred, signaling he was waking up. An alert expression appeared in the hazel eyes, telling Legolas that Éomer didn’t feel as confident as he might appear. /He is insecure./

 

“I believed you asleep,” whispered Éomer, slowly approaching the bed. “Is there anything you need before I go to sleep?” Legolas appeared to be studying his eyes – even in his intoxicated state – and unable to withstand the scrutiny, Éomer averted his gaze. He didn’t want Legolas to realize the truth. It was painful enough to have Legolas this close and yet completely out of reach.

 

“Aye, there is something,” mumbled Legolas, carefully considering his next step. “I do not want to sleep alone tonight.”

 

Éomer’s eyes widened, surprised. “That must be the alcohol talking.” He had to keep in mind that Legolas wasn’t his normal self!

 

Legolas patted the space next to him and whispered, “Come, lie down.”

 

Éomer shook his head. “The Valar know that I want nothing more than to hold you, but I cannot do that – not now… Not when you do not know what you are saying.”

 

/Are you afraid of me? Why would you be scared?/ Legolas frowned and patted the mattress again. “I want you to hold me.” He had pictured it the other way around; he holding Éomer, but the idea of being held was equally pleasing.

 

“I should not.”

 

Éomer’s tone told Legolas that the Rohirrim wanted this and only needed a bit more encouragement. He raised a hand, extended it, and gestured for Éomer to come closer. “I am sober enough to know what I am saying.”

 

Éomer caved in. It had been a long time since he had experienced the comfort of a warm body pressed against his and he longed for such closeness. “I should not do this.” But he was already moving, sitting down on the side and eventually stretching beside Legolas. Slowly, he opened his arms and received Legolas into them. “This should not be happening.”

 

The Man’s behavior and words puzzled Legolas. “Why are you worried? You are merely holding me.”

 

“But I should not.” Éomer slowly realized that Legolas wasn’t as drunk as he had thought the Elf to be. The expression in the sky-blue eyes was lucid and sharp. Legolas knew exactly what was happening. “You tricked me.”

 

Legolas smiled, lazily, and pressed closer to Éomer. “I confess I did.”

 

“Why?” Why wasn’t he getting up? Why wasn’t he distancing himself from Legolas who had so clearly played him? Because Legolas felt right in his arms and he didn’t want to be alone again.

 

“I did not think you would take the first step and it appears I was right. Even now you are tense and ready to leave the bed.” Legolas raised a hand and rested it on Éomer’s wild mane. “You possess a fire, Éomer. A wild fire that pulls me close. I am drawn to you like a moth to a flame.”

 

“But the flame burns the moth,” whispered Éomer, feeling nervous now that Legolas was playing with a strand of his hair.

 

“I will allow you to burn me,” whispered Legolas in a teasing manner.

 

“I do not wish to burn you.” Éomer moistened his dry lips. “I must confess to being confused. What is happening?”

 

“Answer me truthfully. Do you desire me?” A nod from Éomer’s head confirmed his suspicions. “Are you in love with me?”

 

Éomer gulped. He couldn’t believe that Legolas was really asking him this!

 

“You are in love with me, aren’t you, Éomer?”

 

“Aye, I am, but why ask me such cruel questions?” He was about to pull away and leave the bed, when Legolas tightened his hold on him. He had known that the Elf possessed hidden strength, but hadn’t thought Legolas could hold him in place so easily!

 

“Cruel? You think I am cruel?” Legolas considered this new insight. “You expect me to reject you.”

 

“Of course! Why would you accept my love? After all, I am a Man, mortal and… unworthy of someone like you.” Éomer struggled, trying to free himself of the hold Legolas had on him, but he failed. “Let me go!”

 

“Unworthy of me?” Legolas greatly disliked hearing this. “Do you think so highly of me or so little of yourself that you would say such a thing?”

 

“You are… immortal… an Elf… You are strong and… beautiful and I…” Éomer bit his bottom lip due to his growing frustration, as he failed to flee the embrace. Closing his eyes, he hoped Legolas would tire of this game and let him go. The last thing he expected to feel were soft lips pressed against his in a promising kiss. He instantly opened his eyes and stared into smiling blue ones. “Why did you kiss me?” he asked the moment Legolas released his lips.

 

“Because I desired to kiss you and I believe you desired to be kissed.”

 

Legolas’ words made little sense to Éomer, who felt afloat on emotions. “What does this mean?”

 

“It means that we will walk this path together.” In time, he would make Éomer his mate in every sense of the word, but not now – not yet. Éomer needed to grow more confident first – needed to begin believing that this was happening. “We should rest now. One battle lies behind us, but the next is already waiting for us.”

 

Éomer stared at Legolas and searched the eyes for lies, but found none. “You are serious about this? You are not toying with me?”

 

“I do not know where your feelings of low self-worth stem from,” whispered Legolas, smoothing hair out of Éomer’s face when the Rohirrim tried to hide behind it, “but this will change. We will take this slowly, because I believe you need time…” What Éomer needed was time and love, but Legolas didn’t say that aloud. A great sorrow hid behind Éomer’s rugged exterior and it was his task to find out what had caused it. He smiled, seeing Éomer’s eyes unexpectedly close. “Aye, sleep now. Your questions have been answered.” Legolas could literally sense the tension leaving Éomer’s body and the Rohirrim relaxed against him.

 

Éomer didn’t want to fall asleep, but the battle had tired him out and he had been on his feet ever since seeing to it that the dead were buried with all the respect they so rightly deserved. And now that he felt Legolas’ arms wrap around him, his last resistance melted away. Falling asleep, he rested his head against Legolas’ shoulder and finally gave in to exhaustion.

 

Legolas remained awake as he needed little sleep. He preferred to watch over his new mate and ensure that no nightmares haunted the Rohirrim. He had chosen his new mate and he would love and honor Éomer until the day one of them died.

 

~~~

 

Éomer didn’t stir until the sun had risen and had started to warm the earth. The first thing he grew aware of was the warmth wrapped around him. He smiled, still half-asleep, and pressed closer. He had dreamt of feeling so warm – so content. Too bad the dream would end any moment now.

 

“Éomer? You should wake up.” Legolas had long heard the servants rummaging about in the adjourning rooms. “Everyone is up, breakfast is about to be served and your King will expect us to take part in his council meetings.”

 

Éomer’s eyes opened and stared at Legolas. “Not a dream?” Legolas had been holding him in his dreams, but he hadn’t expected to find the Elf close upon awakening!

 

“Do you remember what happened last night?” asked Legolas in a tender voice. It was obvious that Éomer had a hard time believing he wasn’t in bed alone.

 

“Happened? Last night? We didn’t… Did we?” But no, he was still clothed and so was Legolas! “How much ale did I drink?”

 

“You had nothing,” explained Legolas. “You tried to get me drunk, do you remember?”

 

“The drinking contest… and later on, I found you, swaying on your feet in the corridor.” Hazel eyes filled with memories. “You tricked me.”

 

“Aye, and now think past that.” Legolas tenderly caressed Éomer’s brow, trying to smooth the wrinkles there, forming way too early. They spoke of the hard life Éomer had led.

 

“You said… You said that…” Éomer swallowed hard, trying to rid himself of the tension that was taking possession of him. “You could not have said that!”

 

“But I did and then I kissed you…” Legolas wanted to do away with the questions and disbelief in Éomer’s asking eyes and touched his lips to the Man’s. This kiss lasted longer and Legolas even ran the tip of his tongue along Éomer’s bottom lip. Lips and teeth parted and he accepted the invitation, dipping inside.

 

Butterflies teased his insides and he grew instantly hard, feeling Legolas’ tongue explore his mouth. Oh, this couldn’t be happening! He had dreamt of it, but…

 

Legolas ended the kiss, smiled at Éomer, and waited as realization set in.

 

“You…” Éomer helplessly looked into Legolas’ sapphire eyes. “But you are an Elf and I am not.”

 

“We will deal with problems when they arise,” promised Legolas. “Do you realize what this means, meleth?” 

 

“You would call me that? Your love?”

 

“You know my language?”

 

Éomer blushed. “Théoden always told me that I spent too much time reading books… Aye, I studied your language for a while… before I had to grow up and become a warrior.”

 

“I will teach you the things that you do not know yet. This pleases me,” said Legolas, smiling.

 

“Did you mean it?” asked Éomer, finding it hard to believe that Legolas returned his feelings. “Do you want to give this a try?”

 

“As I said before, we will walk this path together.” /And we will take it slowly. You need time./ Éomer smiled at him and it was a radiant smile, which started in his hazel eyes and illuminated his entire being. /Aye, I love you and I thank Aragorn for making me face this./

 

~~~

 

Éomer found it difficult to stay focused during the meeting. Théoden and Aragorn were arguing, but he had no idea what the quarrel was about. He felt drawn toward Legolas and his eyes never strayed far from the Elf’s form.

 

Legolas had excused himself after they had talked that morning and had returned to his guest rooms to wash and change into clean clothes. Éomer carried out his daily duties and then joined the others for today’s meeting. The more time passed, the more Éomer grew convinced that last night had been a dream and had never happened.

 

His uncle’s voice, oddly raised, announced that the meeting had ended. It drew him from his musings and he snapped to attention. Théoden marched out the hall and a moment later Aragorn rushed out as well, quickly followed by Gimli.

 

“Our situation has become grave now that Pippin gave us away.” Legolas cocked his head; he would appreciate having Éomer’s council in this matter, but the Rohirrim didn’t appear to have heard him.

 

“Our situation?” Éomer shied away from Legolas’ inquisitive gaze.

 

“Aye, Sauron knows that Isildur’s heir is still alive and determined to face him. I do hope Pippin and Mithrandir will be safe.” The Wizard and Hobbit had departed for Minas Tirith only an hour ago. “But that was not the situation you were thinking of,” whispered Legolas, walking toward Éomer. “You are troubled. Why?” He placed a hand on Éomer’s shoulder and squeezed, reassuringly. “Is it something I did? Or said?”

 

Éomer moistened his lips, feeling extremely nervous. “I find it hard to believe that you want me as your lover.”

 

“Aye, I noticed that. Why does the fact that I return your feelings puzzle you?” Legolas moved closer still and tangled his fingers in Éomer’s curls. “I must admit it happened quickly and I could have been more… diplomatic… when inquiring about your feelings for me, but I reckoned you would appreciate the directness.”

 

“I did… I do,” mumbled Éomer, feeling lost now that Legolas was so close again. The Elf smelled of vanilla and pine, of trees and sun. “It is just…”

 

“I sense a deep pain in your soul,” said Legolas, softly, uncertain if Éomer would allow him to address this matter here and now. “Does this loss have anything to do with your… hesitance… to accept my love for you?”

 

“There is something you should know…” Éomer drew in a deep breath and gathered his courage. “I had a lover once.”

 

Legolas cocked his head, noticing the past tense. “So did I.”

 

“My lover died.” Éomer wanted nothing more than to move closer to Legolas and *feel* him. Really *feel* him. But he couldn’t. First he had to reveal his shameful secret to the Firstborn.

 

“So did mine. He died in battle, defending his kin.” Maybe sharing his past and pain would help Éomer open up to him. “I held him in my arms during his last moments.”

 

“You did?” Éomer fought his tears and succeeded in holding them in check for now. “The message that he was in dire straits reached me too late, but the moment it did, I left Edoras to search for him. He was still alive when I found him.”

 

Acting intuitively, Legolas rested the palm of his hand against Éomer’s cheek, gently rubbing the somewhat coarse facial skin. “Please continue.” He could only help if he knew what Éomer was dealing with.

 

“I pulled him into my arms and brought him home… but I arrived too late. He died.” Éomer lowered his eyes. “My love is my disgrace.”

 

That last statement worried and puzzled Legolas. “Why is that, meleth?”

 

Éomer pulled away from Legolas’ touch, turned, and bowed his head in defeat. He doubted Legolas would still want him after learning the truth about him. “I fell in love with my cousin when Théoden brought Éowyn and me here. Théodred was older than my age but we quickly became friends, him never having the chance to know his mother. My feelings continued to deepen, and in the end, I confessed them to him. I expected Théodred to turn away from me in disgust but he didn’t. We were kin and knew we should not lay with each other… but we wanted to be together in that way. We never took that step though. He died before we could…” Éomer was unable to finish.

 

Legolas accepted what Éomer had told him without judging the Rohirrim for his past deeds. “This explains the pain which I sense in you.” He slowly turned Éomer toward him and raised the Man’s head by placing a finger under his chin. “Look at me.”

 

Éomer did, hoping against all odds that Legolas wouldn’t be disgusted with him for his past love. He should never have fallen in love with his cousin, but his heart had chosen and he had followed.

 

“I am not in the habit of passing judgment, Éomer. The past made us into the people we are now.” He smiled, ruefully, and let his hand wander upward, until it rested against the nape of Éomer’s neck. “I mourned the loss of my mate as well, but my past differs from yours. My lover and I exchanged vows and we were happy for four centuries, but then he died, leaving me alone. I know some of the pain you feel.”

 

Éomer’s mouth had gone dry, hearing Legolas’ accepting words. “Théodred died only a few months ago. The pain is still fresh. I never expected to be attracted to you – to fall in love so quickly again. I fully expected to be alone for the rest of my life.”

 

“Is it guilt you feel?”

 

“Nay.” Éomer shook his head. “It is our way – the way of the warrior – to accept love whenever it comes our way. I know fully well that we can die during our next fight. I know I should make the best of this – especially since you return my feelings. It is not guilt I feel.”

 

Legolas leaned in closer and whispered his next words against Éomer’s trembling lips. “You are shy, meleth.” He had finally found the main reason for Éomer’s behavior.

 

Éomer grew flustered. “Aye…” He felt speechless – didn’t know what to say -- Legolas *was* correct.

 

“I find your bashfulness alluring.”

 

Éomer’s eyes grew big and looked at Legolas in surprise. “You do?” Only now did something Legolas had said fully register with him. “*Four* centuries, but…?”

 

“I am considered young among my people, as I am only one thousand years old.”

 

“But you look so… young!”

 

“Aye, so I have been told. But looks can be deceiving, meleth.” Oh, he just knew what Éomer was thinking! He had heard it whispered behind his back whenever he had dealings with mortals. “And I am not frail either, Éomer. You have seen me fight.”

 

“I meant no disrespect,” said Éomer, quickly. “It is only… you look so…”

 

Legolas smiled, teasingly. “You will learn to view me in a different light,” he promised. He had learned many things during this conversation, but there was one more thing he wanted to know absolutely certain. “Éomer, have you ever been with a male? Or a female?”

 

Éomer’s blush deepened. “I understand that you want to know, but discussing this makes me uncomfortable.”

 

“Please confide in me, meleth.” Trying to make admitting the truth to him easier, Legolas ran his fingertips along Éomer’s jaw line.

 

“Théodred was the only one I ever felt attracted to and he died before… Nay, I have not been with someone in that way before.” How would Legolas react to learning he had gained a virgin as a lover?

 

“Thank you for entrusting this to me, Éomer. I will not betray the trust you place in me.” Legolas’ fingertips caressed Éomer’s skin and then settled in the blond mane. Slowly, giving Éomer a chance to anticipate on what was going to happen, he captured the Rohirrim’s lips with his.

 

/I have never been kissed like this./ Théodred and he had mostly talked about the affection they bore each other. They had only exchanged a few, shy kisses. Looking back, he wasn’t certain they would ever have expressed their love physically. They had been too worried, had felt too intimated by the fact that they were cousins.

 

Things were so different with Legolas – an experienced Elf of a thousand years old, he reminded himself. And Legolas still wanted him – in spite of his lack of experience and his shameful love for his cousin.

 

Théodred had never kissed him like this. Legolas’ kiss was passionate and more demanding than the other kisses they had exchanged so far and it woke a burning desire deep inside him. “I love you,” he whispered against Legolas’ lips.

 

Legolas heard the sensual longing in Éomer’s voice and smiled. /Aye, you are eager and passionate and our love is true. When we are ready, our love will heal our hurts./

 

~~~

 

“You disappeared on me last night,” said Aragorn, trying hard not to sound too smug. They were seated in the main Hall and enjoying the evening meal.

 

“Do not act surprised,” replied Legolas, eating a little of the fruit and meats. “You knew I would act upon your advice.”

 

Aragorn chuckled. “I assume Éomer did not turn you away? I noticed the way he looked at your during the meeting.” He had also noted the expression in Legolas’ eyes whenever Éomer had spoken.

 

“He did not. You were correct; Éomer feels the same way about me.” Legolas shoved his plate aside and studied his friend’s eyes. “He is still mourning the loss of a lover, though, who passed away only recently.”

 

Aragorn inclined his head, surprised to hear this news. “I did not know he had a lover.” Nothing had indicated that Éomer was mourning.

 

“It was Théoden’s son.”

 

“Théodred?” Surprised, Aragorn arched an eyebrow. “Aye, the youngster died in an attack. I reckon this changes things among the two of you?”

 

“After a fashion. I want him to mourn the loss properly before rushing off into this relationship.”

 

“What are your intentions, meldir?”

 

“I have accepted him as my mate. In time, we will consummate our love – when the time is right.”

 

“We will be marching for Minas Tirith shortly. I told you before not to waste time.”

 

“Have you seen this in a vision?”

 

Aragorn averted his eyes. “I do not need a vision to know that the last battle will take place in the White City. Many will die there.” His gaze darkened. “I cannot see my fate, or yours, but I know death is approaching.”

 

“Thank you for opening my eyes, meldir.” Legolas smiled at his friend. “We will face that last battle together.” He couldn’t dismiss the possibility that his quest would lead him away from Éomer’s side. He could only hope that the Valar would reunite them in the end.

 

~~~

 

Éomer felt nervous – he had opened the door to his rooms and had found Legolas already there. The Elven archer was seated on his bed, combing his long, still wet hair. Éomer coughed, feeling embarrassed, as he realized that Legolas was naked beneath the sheet that covered his lap. “I did not expect to find you here.” All day long, his duties had kept him busy and had prevented him from thinking about Legolas too much. Now, he couldn’t escape the truth anymore – there was a naked Elf on his bed.

 

“Would you close the door? It creates a draft.” Legolas finished combing his hair and placed the comb aside. He decided against braiding his hair just yet and ran his fingers through the strands. Éomer, standing near the doorway, looked like a cornered deer and ready to flee the room. /Aragorn, you might urge me to make haste, but Éomer is not ready yet to take this step./

 

Éomer had finally closed the door behind him and now shuffled his feet. He felt at a loss and lowered his gaze, feeling like a trespasser for looking at Legolas’ bare chest. The Elf was a vision of gold and alabaster, of strength and beauty and he desperately wanted to cradle Legolas close – but his anxiety stopped him from acting upon his feelings.

 

“Do you not find me attractive?” The sheet slipped from Legolas’ lap as he rose from the bed. He advanced on Éomer, correctly interpreting the Man’s fears. /The shyness will go once he feels more secure./

 

“You are very attractive.” Éomer blushed, hearing his voice tremble. Legolas was close now and it was impossible not to look at the Elf, who now stood in front of him. The only thing left to do was to close his eyes.

 

Legolas smiled, seeing Éomer close his eyes. The Rohirrim’s reactions weren’t uncommon for someone who was still untouched, but he had thought the Man to be a bit more aggressive. Éomer’s bashfulness continued to surprise him. Making certain that he didn’t put too much strength in the embrace he wrapped his arms around Éomer’s form. The tremors that coursed through Éomer’s body increased, but Legolas followed through. “Open your eyes and look at me.” They were of equal height, which Legolas thought was perfect for kissing. It would also be perfect for making love later. “There is no reason to be afraid.”

 

“I do not know what to do,” admitted Éomer, as he opened his eyes. “You are…”

 

Opting for a direct approach, Legolas claimed Éomer’s lips in a gentle kiss. He reminded himself that he had to go slow.

 

The kiss was seductive and tempting and Éomer reacted to it by raising his arms and bringing them up behind Legolas’ back. His fingertips encountered soft skin, soft like silk and he almost felt guilty for touching it. “I am dirty from training and…” Grime still clung to his fingertips and now marred Legolas’ silken skin.

 

Legolas acted quickly. “There is still enough water to take a bath. Come with me.” He had discovered the luxurious bathroom earlier and now pulled Éomer toward the doorway. “Let me attend to you.” Maybe Éomer would grow more comfortable once he became used to being touched.

 

“I do not need help bathing.” Éomer had seldom felt this embarrassed and shy before.

 

“Among the Firstborn it is perfectly normal to tend to each other. I would like to assist you, meleth. Please let me.” 

 

Éomer suddenly realized that he was standing in the center of the bathroom and that Legolas was already doing away with the tunic he was wearing. “Please, I…”

 

“Trust me, Éomer. Please trust me.” Had he underestimated Éomer’s insecurity? Where did it stem from? Was it just the fear of the unknown?

 

“I trust you,” whispered Éomer, yielding.

 

Legolas sensed how difficult making this decision had been on Éomer and vowed to never betray that the trust given to him. He removed Éomer’s tunic and gasped, softly.

 

“What is amiss?” Hearing that gasp worried Éomer. Did Legolas find his physique that displeasing? He fought the urge to cover up again and sought out Legolas’ eyes instead.

 

“You have chest hair.” Curiously, Legolas let his fingertips creep through the golden hairs. “I find it fascinating.”

 

Éomer released a sigh from relief. That wasn’t the answer he had expected and he peeked at Legolas’ chest, which was devoid of any chest hair. “Elves do not have chest hair?”

 

Legolas nodded, looking forward to the many other surprises he would encounter whilst getting to know Éomer better. “Why don’t you remove your trousers and I fill up the bath tub?” He suspected that Éomer needed a moment to compose himself again. 

 

Éomer nodded, not realizing he was about to enter another compromising situation. He had just undone the lacing, when Legolas bent down to pour the water from the bucket into the tub, giving him a perfect view of his backside. Éomer groaned, desperately trying not to grow erect, but he failed. His body reacted to the alluring vision presented to him and he covered his groin with his hands, hoping Legolas wouldn’t notice his aroused state.

 

Legolas’ sharp sense of smell told him of Éomer’s excitement, as a spicy scent spread through the bathroom. It was the spicy scent of sexual arousal. He filled the bath tub with warm water and then turned around. He smiled, seeing Éomer standing there, covering himself up. “There is no reason to feel embarrassed, meleth.” He extended his hands and nodded once, hoping Éomer would understand.

 

“I can’t…” mumbled Éomer, self-conscious.

 

“I view your aroused state as a very flattering compliment, meleth. It pleases me that you desire me.”

 

“I…” Éomer’s gaze finally dropped. Until now, he had managed *not* to peek below the waistline, but that had changed now. Legolas’ body was just perfect. Narrow hips, long legs, a firm bottom and… no pubic hair, but certainly well-endowed.

 

“You must have seen a naked male before.” Legolas smiled, encouraging, and Éomer finally extended his hands in order to place them in his.

 

“Aye, I did,” replied Éomer, allowing Legolas to steer him toward the bath tub. “But the situation greatly differed. The communal baths are… nothing like this.” He stepped into the tub and quickly sat down.

 

“I understand,” whispered Legolas, kneeling beside the tub. “I want you to tell me if I act too fast. I do not want to pressure you, meleth.”

 

“I know that I am acting in a ridiculous way,” said Éomer, surprised to find that Legolas intended to wash his hair. But then again, Legolas *had* said he wanted to attend to him.

 

“Nay, you are not. This is new for you and it is very understandable that you are shy.” Legolas loved feeling the sturdy curls move through his fingers. There was strength in Éomer, strength and fire.

 

“I want you to touch me,” admitted Éomer, once more peeking at Legolas’ inviting eyes. “I just do not know how to act – how to please you.”

 

“Do not worry about those things,” replied Legolas, who pressed a bar of soap into Éomer’s hands. “Why don’t you wash up whilst I untangle your hair?”

 

“Thank you.” Éomer had been worried that Legolas also intended to attend to his private parts, which would have made him feel even more embarrassed. He concentrated on the feel of Legolas’ fingers moving through his hair and he even closed his eyes in bliss when the Elf massaged his scalp.

 

“You are not falling asleep on me, are you?” That was one thing he would have to grow used to – Éomer’s need to sleep regularly. Humans tired more easily than he had thought.

 

“I am sorry.” The day had been tiring.

 

Legolas reached for large towels and began to dry Éomer’s hair. Once the hair had stopped dripping, he told Éomer to rise and when the Rohirrim did, he quickly wrapped a large towel around the shivering, wet body. Hazel eyes, filled with sleep and longing met his and Éomer graced him with a warm smile.

 

“I do not deserve you.”

 

“Aye, you do.” Legolas guided Éomer into the bedroom and sat him down on the bed. “Do you always tire so quickly?” He needed to knew these things if he wanted to take care of his mate.

 

“Nay, normally I do not, but these have been tiring days.” And he figured the worst was yet to come.

 

Shivers raced through Éomer’s body and Legolas finally realized that it was due to the cold. “Lie down.” He collected the warm, woolen blankets from the foot end of the bed and then joined Éomer. The Rohirrim had moved onto his side and Legolas curled himself around the Man, spooning behind him and wrapping his arms around him. He removed the towel and pulled the bed covers into place. Slowly, the shivers dimmed and Éomer began to feel warm against him. “I still have so much to learn about you.” He had spent much time with Aragorn, but the Dúnedain possessed Númenórean blood and was in many ways stronger than Éomer, who didn’t possess such powerful blood.

 

“Learn?” whispered Éomer, as he began to drift off into sleep. The skin on skin contact felt amazingly good and Legolas’ arms wrapped around him gave him a sense of safety. He could finally relax and entrust himself to someone’s care. Legolas would look after him during his sleep.

 

“Aye, about mortals.” Éomer’s breathing slowed down and deepened; a sure sign that the Rohirrim had fallen asleep. /He accepted my closeness easier this time. Was it because he was tired, or is he growing more comfortable around me?/ Legolas hoped it was the latter. Pressing as close as possible, he nuzzled Éomer’s neck. /I should enjoy these moments of peace and silence./ War would shortly be upon them.

 

~~~

The next morning Éomer battled a very private problem. Very private, very normal, and a perfectly healthy problem – but still a problem. During the night, he had moved about and he had ended up asleep lying face to face with Legolas. The Elf’s arms were wrapped around him and the scent that always accompanied Legolas drifted into his nostrils. Waking up in such an intimate way had created his flushed and aroused state. A part of him felt excited and curious and he wondered what kind of lover Legolas was. Another part felt nervous and apprehensive; as he was afraid he would somehow disappoint his lover.

 

Down! Éomer tried willing away his erection, but failed. Legolas’ closeness was intoxicating, and as he stared at the soft lips, he wanted nothing more than to lean in closer and kiss them.

 

“Why don’t you?”

 

Legolas’ voice startled Éomer, who sucked in his breath and tried to move away from his lover. But Legolas had a tight hold on him and Éomer found that he was confined to the embrace. “What did you say?”

 

Legolas smiled, hearing the tremors in the Rohirrim’s voice. “Why don’t you kiss me?”

 

“How do you know what I was thinking?” Éomer’s breath caught when Legolas’ sky-blue eyes met his.

 

“Rest assured; I am not reading your mind. I merely drew the right conclusion.” His smile brightened further. “It is not *that* difficult to know what you are thinking.” He moved, sliding his erection along Éomer’s hard flesh.

 

“Oh…” Excited, Éomer pressed closer.

 

Legolas’ smile turned lazy, seeing the lust and passion in Éomer’s hazel eyes. Taking the initiative, Legolas ran the tip of his ring finger along Éomer’s slit. He kept in mind that Éomer had little experience and took his time, leading Éomer in this first, passionate encounter. “You are hard. You desire me.”

 

Legolas’ voice sounded hoarse and raw to Éomer, who arched his back in an attempt to get closer to his lover’s probing touch. Fingers curled around his throbbing shaft and stroked firmly. Biting his bottom lip, he threw back his head, concentrating on the sensual tingling that coursed through his body.

 

“Kiss me,” ordered Legolas, eager to take the next step and bring his lover to orgasm.

 

Éomer needed no more encouragement. His eyes fluttered open, focused on Legolas, and then darkened with desire. Insecurity and doubt left him and he attacked Legolas’ pink lips with a sensual abandon that left both of them breathless.

 

Realizing he had awoken a fire deep within Éomer, Legolas surrendered control. He allowed it when Éomer rolled him onto his back and sighed blissfully, feeling the Rohirrim’s heavy weight settle upon him. Continuing stroking Éomer took some dexterity, but he managed. Éomer’s eyes had turned black and his mortal lover began pumping his hips. Legolas loosened the hold he had on Éomer’s erection and allowed for his lover to thrust at his own speed.

 

Éomer felt like living in a dream – like he was acting out a fantasy he had harbored for a long time. Finally, he had a lover, and this was his first taste of sensual intimacy. He leaned in closer and claimed Legolas’ lips again. Legolas parted lips and teeth and Éomer accepted the invitation, thoroughly possessing the sweet mouth.

 

Legolas wrapped his legs around Éomer’s waist, mimicking the act of making love. It wasn’t long before Éomer tensed above him in climax. Warm cream dripped onto his stomach, the proof that his lover had found release. Éomer’s hold had become crushing. The Rohirrim’s fingers tangled in his hair, holding him in place and Éomer used his body weight to press him down. Oh, how he loved that feeling. “I am yours.”

 

Those words brought Éomer out of his trance-like state and he stared into Legolas’ lucid blue eyes. Realizing what he had done, what had happened, he also realized he had left Legolas behind.

 

Seeing the sudden distress in Éomer’s eyes, Legolas soothingly stroked the still quavering back. “What is amiss?”

 

“You didn’t come…” Éomer panted and pushed himself off of Legolas by placing his hands on the bed on either side of his lover’s head. “That is not right.”

 

Legolas smiled, reassuringly. “What would you like, meleth? For your hands to bring me to orgasm or to watch me do it myself?” He found Éomer’s sudden shyness endearing.

 

“I would like to try… If I may…” Éomer rolled off of Legolas and propped himself up an elbow. Watching Legolas, he admired the Woodland Elf’s beauty.

 

“Touch me, then.” Encouraging Éomer, he guided the Rohirrim’s hand onto his still hard flesh. He felt fascinated, watching Éomer’s facial expression when the warrior’s fingers first touched his erect member.

 

Éomer licked his lips. His eyes took in his lover’s naked form and found him beautiful all over. Not a hair showed on the chest or groin area. Legolas was smooth all over – his skin glistering like gold in the lingering fire. Wrapping his fingers around Legolas’ erection was a strange experience. He had never touched a male that intimately before – not even Théodred. Éomer stroked the hard flesh and Legolas’ needy moan caused butterflies to tickle his insides. The blue eyes closed, obviously lost in impending pleasure – and Éomer grew more confident. 

 

His lips returned to take Legolas’ in an arduous kiss. Keeping up the stroking motion, he grew bolder and the tip of his tongue traveled lower, down the throat, until it encountered a hard nipple. He ran his tongue over the nub and Legolas arched his back in need.

 

“Faster… Please…” He surrendered to his lover’s ministrations and desperately craved more. It had been so long since he had felt this way!

 

Éomer complied and sped up. “Open your eyes.” Legolas groaned, thrust into his hand and the azure eyes opened. “I have never seen a more beautiful sight than you – right now.” The fact that *he* was giving Legolas such pleasure pleased him immensely and then cream erupted from the slit. /I made him come!/

 

The expression in Legolas’ eyes was amazing and Éomer lacked the words to describe that sensation. The sapphire eyes had become hooded and the eye-lids had half closed. Legolas looked striking, locked in ecstasy. 

 

The lazy smile remained on Legolas’ face when he drew Éomer closer for a kiss. “I love you.” They had taken their first step and hopefully they could consummate their love before war was upon them – again.

 

~~~

 

They spent the rest of the day in the stables. Legolas acquainted himself with the horses, which took an instant liking to him. He even surprised Éomer by riding one stallion, who no one dared to approach; Théoden’s foundation stallion. Throughout the day, Éomer’s gaze followed Legolas everywhere the Woodland Elf went and when they joined the others for the noon meal, the Rohirrim felt Aragorn’s eyes upon him. One look told him all he needed to know, and he also read knowledge in Gimli’s eyes – the Dwarf also knew then.

 

The evening was spent in meeting, discussing all the possibilities open to them. Théoden’s expression remained thoughtful throughout the discussion, always keeping in mind that Gandalf had warned him that Rohan should be ready in case Gondor asked for help.

 

Aragorn left once the meeting was done and settled down outside, watching the mountain top that held the beacon, which would be lit, should Gondor call for help. Aragorn knew – rationally – that Gandalf couldn’t have arrived at Minas Tirith yet, for not even Shadowfax could travel that fast.

 

Éomer joined Legolas, who stood leaned against the doorway, watching Aragorn. “You are close, aren’t you?”

 

Legolas noticed the insecurity in his lover’s voice and sought out the hazel eyes. “When it was time for Aragorn to be trained as an archer and tracker he was sent to Mirkwood. Mirkwood is my home, meleth. The task of training him was given to me and during that time, we became friends.”

 

“I keep forgetting that you are much older than you look like,” whispered Éomer. “You do not look a day older than twenty to me.” Éomer’s gaze followed Legolas’ when the blond Elf returned to studying Aragorn. “Are you worried for him?”

 

“A heavy burden rests on his shoulders. I vowed to help him in whatever way I can.”

 

Éomer swallowed, hard. “Even when that vow means you have to leave my side? That we will be separated?”

 

Legolas looked deeply into Éomer’s pleading eyes. He had seen glimpses of the future and knew that they would be separated at one point in the future. “I cannot promise you that we will always fight side-by-side in this war, but I will promise you this…” Legolas rested a hand at the nape of Éomer’s neck and moved a little closer. “I will find you and always return to you.”

 

A sense of foreboding moved through Éomer. “This war will demand many sacrifices.”

 

“Aye, I know that, and we will suffer losses in our lives, but we will remain together until the end.”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

Legolas massaged the twitching neck muscles that rippled beneath Éomer’s wild mane of hair. The Rohirrim was tense. “Some of us are gifted with foresight. My father is the true seer in my family – I only see bits and pieces, but I know that we will survive this war and that we will be together in the end.” /We will be together until the day you die. My heart already breaks, knowing you will leave me one day./ But he had chosen his fate and had to follow through.

 

~~~

 

During the next few days, they continued to grow closer and worked on deepening their relationship. Waking up in the morning had become a true delight and they enjoyed touching each other in intimate ways, but still had to fully claim each other. Legolas was determined to let Éomer set the pace and refused to pressure his lover into taking a step when he wasn’t ready yet.

 

Everything changed the day Aragorn ran into the main hall, calling out that the beacons had been lit and that Gondor was asking for help.

 

Legolas felt helpless, useless even, when Éomer was sent to collect the Rohirrim. Éomer did his king’s bidding and Legolas received one last look filled with longing. Although he had known that they would be parted, the separation affected him more than he had thought.

 

Théoden prepared to go to war and the party left Edoras to oversee the gathering of riders. The Muster of Rohan had begun.

 

~~~

 

“Too few came,” whispered Éomer when Legolas seated himself next to him. He had been staring into the fire, feeling ill at ease. “We cannot possibly defeat Sauron’s army. Many will die.”

 

Legolas’ heart had sped up, finding his beloved close again and the last thing he wanted to do was to discuss the upcoming battle, but Éomer’s thoughts continued to circle around it and so he deserted his plans of seducing Éomer – there would be no lovemaking tonight. “You must have faith, meleth. You can never give up hope.” Not when they still had Aragorn – Estel.

 

Éomer’s gaze drifted away from his lover and came to rest on the lonely rider approaching the camp. Or, more accurately, it was the magnificent white stallion that drew his attention.

 

Legolas followed his lover’s gaze. His Elven instincts told him who had come and why. The future was taking shape now that Elrond had forged the sword which had been broken anew. “Éomer, I must leave you shortly. My path leads away from yours.”

 

“But we *will* meet again?” Time was running out on them. “I thought we would have more time – more time together.”

 

“We live in times of war,” said Legolas, resting his head on Éomer’s shoulder. The assembled riders were watching them, but he paid them little attention – it was only a matter of time before their relationship would become known to all. “And didn’t I promise you that I would always return to you?”

 

“You did.” Éomer nuzzled Legolas’ silken hair and closed his eyes. “I do not want this moment to ever stop. Why can we not remain this way?” But he already knew the answer to those questions – Evil had to be stopped. “Return to me, Legolas. Always return to me.”

 

“I will,” promised Legolas, entwining their fingers. “I will.” It was only a matter of hours before Aragorn, Gimli and he would venture into the mountain and walk the Paths of the Dead, but he was determined to keep his promise. He would find Éomer on the battlefield when the right time had come.

 

~~~

 

Éomer screamed and cradled his wounded sister against his chest. A few feet away from him lay his uncle’s corpse. For one insane moment he had been afraid that Éowyn had died as well, but he had felt her pulse and comforted himself with the thought that at least one of them had survived. But her condition was grave and he needed to take her to the House of Healing.

 

Legolas approached his beloved slowly, seeing and sensing Éomer’s immense sorrow. One look told him what had happened and he sought out Aragorn’s eyes.

 

Aragorn knew what his friend was thinking and wasn’t surprised to hear Legolas’ whispered words.

 

“The hands of the King are also the hands of a Healer.” Legolas had faith in his friend and looked toward Aragorn to save Éowyn’s life.

 

Aragorn advanced on brother and sister. The war was momentarily forgotten and he focused on this one person – this one friend – who needed him the most. Éowyn had paid a terrible price for taking part in this battle. “Éomer, give her to me. I can help her.”

 

But Éomer resolutely shook his head. “Nay!”

 

Aragorn gave Legolas a pleading look and the Woodland Elf reacted by kneeling beside Éomer. “Listen to Aragorn. The Witch-King’s blade injured her and a healer needs to tend to her. Trust Aragorn.” Leaning in closer, he whispered into his lover’s ear, “The hands of the King are the hands of a Healer. Hand her to him and she will survive.”

 

Éomer vaguely registered Legolas’ presence. He had seen his lover fight, had even witnessed him taking out one of the dreaded Oliphants, but Éomer had lost track of him during the last stages of the battle. Legolas’ words only half reached his muddled brain, and when Aragorn tried to pry his fingers loose, he fought him. Legolas however, stopped him, and this time the words truly registered with him. Aye, he knew the tales, the stories. He sought out Aragorn’s eyes, saw the genuine worry in them and forced himself to place his sister’s limp body in his friend’s arms. “Please heal her. She is all I have left.”

 

Éomer’s words could have hurt Legolas, but the Woodland Elf understood what his lover was trying to say – Éowyn was the only blood relative he had left now that Théoden had also died.

 

Aragorn pressed Éowyn against his chest and rose from the ground. “Legolas, I trust you to take care of Éomer.” He needed to focus on his patient and worrying about Éomer would only distract him.

 

“I will accompany you!” Éomer was determined to stay close to his sister.

 

“You can visit with her later,” said Aragorn. “I need to start the recovering process and must concentrate on her needs, not yours. Éomer, my good friend, you need to rest so you can be there for your sister when she wakes up again.”

 

Aragorn walked away from them and Legolas stopped Éomer from following the healer. “He knows what he is doing, meleth. You should heed his advice and rest.” His eyes and fingertips already searched for any injuries Éomer might have suffered.

 

Éomer stared at Aragorn’s back until the Dúnedain had disappeared from view. Only then did he fully register Legolas’ presence. “You survived,” he mumbled, running fingertips covered with dried blood along the Woodland Elf’s jaw.

 

“I will always return to you,” replied Legolas, smiling warmly. “Come with me, meleth.” He didn’t plan on keeping Éomer away from his sister, but would insist the Man cleaned up, ate and rested first. Only when Aragorn sent word, would he let Éomer go to his sister’s side.

 

~~~

 

Aragorn sent word five hours later and Éomer hurried over to the House of Healing, followed suit by Legolas. The Woodland Elf remained out of the way when Éomer and Aragorn sat with Éowyn, softly talking to her.

 

Éomer had seldom felt this grateful and had embraced Aragorn once he was convinced that his sister would make a full recovery. “She means the world to me. Thank you for saving her.”

 

Aragorn had given Éomer a warm smile and had then left the siblings alone. He had joined Legolas instead, who had retreated into the corridor to ensure Éomer and Éowyn had some privacy. “She will fully recover.”

 

“That is excellent,” whispered Legolas, lost in thought. The madness of war had faded and he was finally given a chance to think. “You are the King of Gondor now, meldir.”

 

“I never wanted to rule,” said Aragorn in a pensive voice. “But Sauron took that choice away from me. He forced my hand…”

 

Legolas chuckled, softly. “You have finally accepted your destiny. I must confess that we were growing desperate if you ever would accept your heritage. It is good to see that…” He paused, seeing his friend’s puzzled expression.

 

“Who are ‘we’?” Aragorn eyed Legolas closely. He thought he had learned to read his friend a long time ago, but he wasn’t so sure anymore.

 

“Elrond, Mithrandir… and I, of course. Why do you think Elrond sent you to Mirkwood to be trained? It was the first step towards forming the Fellowship. You accepted my presence without question during our quest.”

 

“Oh, Elves just love to scheme, don’t they?” He shook his head – he hadn’t realized just how long Elrond had been planning this.

 

Legolas came to a standstill and Aragorn was forced to do the same. Once he had his friend’s full attention, he added, “Our scheme worked, didn’t it, Elessar? You are King now.”

 

Aragorn’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe you did not think this through for yourself, after all, Legolas.”

 

“I did not?” A deep frown appeared on Legolas’ brow. “In what way?”

 

“Théoden died in battle and Éomer is next in line. You are mated to the King of Rohan, meldir,” he said in a teasing tone, giving Legolas the sweetest smile ever.

 

Legolas’ eyes grew slightly wider. “You are right – I did not consider that.”

 

“And you are the Crown Prince of Mirkwood. I wonder what your father – the King – will think of this.” Aragorn relished seeing the expression in Legolas’ eyes. “Elves aren’t as good at scheming as they think.” After saying that, he playfully squeezed Legolas’ shoulder and then turned to leave – still smiling.

 

~~~

 

Aragorn was right, of course. Éomer was King of Rohan now, which made him…? Legolas rubbed his temples; thinking had begun to hurt at this point. /This does not have to pose a problem,/ he realized, saddened. /Éomer is mortal and his lifespan is nothing more than the blink of an eye to my father./ Thranduil would accept this because Éomer *was* mortal. Thranduil would realize that his son would return to him eventually.

 

/But you are right, Estel. I did not think this through./ He had hoped to spend part of his time living in the Elven realms, showing Éomer wonders which the Man had never seen before, but their future had changed. /We will make our home in Edoras, where Éomer will rule. I wonder, did Éomer already realize himself that he is King now?/ He doubt his lover had, as Éomer’s thoughts still circled around his recovering sister.

 

~~~

 

Éomer shuffled into the rooms they shared. He hadn’t missed his lover’s presence whilst he had sat with his sister, but now that Éowyn no longer demanded his attention, he realized just how much he longed to have Legolas close.

 

Legolas looked at Éomer from over his shoulder. Night had settled over Minas Tirith and the time to rest had come – just for one moment, for Evil had not yet been defeated. “How does your sister fare?” Legolas ran his fingers through his hair, undoing his braids.

 

Éomer drew in a deep, appreciative breath. Legolas had already taken a quick bath and the satin-like skin glowed invitingly. Now that Éowyn was recovering, the world felt right again to Éomer. “You returned to me.” He approached his lover, knelt in front of him and rested his head on Legolas’ knee. His lover’s fingers moved through his hair, luring him into relaxation. “But this is not over yet. Not until the One Ring has been destroyed.”

 

“Aye, this war has not come to an end yet, but it soon will.” Legolas raised his lover’s head, searched Éomer’s eyes and saw the need in them. Slowly, he unclasped the cloak from Éomer’s shoulders and let it drop onto the floor. *The* moment had come at last.

 

Éomer nodded once – aye, he wanted this too. As Legolas was the more experienced one, he allowed the Woodland Elf to guide him. Legolas slid off of the chair he had been sitting on and knelt in front of him. Agile fingers quickly removed his remaining clothes and Éomer fought the urge to cover himself up when he was finally naked. “I feel vulnerable,” he admitted in a nervous voice.

 

“I understand that you do, but there is no need to feel that way.” Legolas kissed Éomer lightly, sliding his hand into place at the nape of his lover’s neck. Éomer’s fingers moved down his spine, exploring and memorizing. Éomer’s tenderness momentarily surprised Legolas, but he realized that the horror they had witnessed had left scars on both their souls. In Éomer’s case, it brought out his tender side. “Will you claim me and make me yours?”

 

Éomer swallowed in an effort to cover up his nervousness. “I have fantasized about doing that.”

 

“Then let us make certain that it remains a fantasy no longer.” Legolas lowered Éomer onto his back and straddled his lover’s hips. “Éomer, before we continue… Do you understand that Elves mate for life? I will be your mate until the day you die. There can never be another.”

 

Éomer cupped his lover’s buttocks and rubbed his thumb along the firm flesh. “I understand and accept that.”

 

“But what about heirs, meleth? Sons? Daughters?” Legolas needed to make certain that Éomer understood what their future entailed.

 

“I pray to the Valar that Éowyn will find love -- a husband – and that she will continue the royal bloodline.” Éomer cocked his head, watching with interest when Legolas uncovered a small phial. “Legolas, I… I have never done this before.” The fact that he was flat on his back made him feel even more vulnerable, but he didn’t know why.

 

“Trust me,” whispered Legolas, removing the stopper. “Close your eyes and trust me.”

 

Éomer did as he was told and arched his back in surprise, feeling slick fingers encircle his manhood. He was painfully erect and reacted to the manipulation by thrusting into the welcoming hand. “Oh, Legolas…I…”

 

“Do not talk,” whispered Legolas, coating his lover’s erection with oil. Realizing just how aroused Éomer was, he figured his lover wouldn’t last long and he had better do this now, before Éomer came due to excitement alone. He raised himself and positioned himself for penetration. Slowly – very slowly – he lowered himself onto his lover’s hard flesh.

 

Éomer’s eyes opened, widened, and stared admiringly at Legolas. “You are so…” The compliment he had wanted to pay Legolas didn’t make it past his lips, as something tight and warm gripped his erection like a glove.

 

Pacing himself, Legolas slowly took in more of Éomer’s length. His eyes locked with Éomer’s and their fingers entwined. A quivering sigh left his lips the moment he had completely taken his lover inside.

 

Moaning, Éomer used the grip he had on Legolas’ hands to support his lover when he raised himself again. For one moment Éomer thought that Legolas intended to break this connection, but then the Woodland Elf impaled himself again and quavers of delight coursed through him. His body reacted to this ancient dance and he thrust upward.

 

Legolas closed his eyes in bliss, as the tip of his lover’s member rubbed the pleasure gland inside his passage. He steadied himself, controlling his body’s urge to burst out in orgasm. Not yet…

 

Éomer groaned; the pressure was building and the urge to take control of their lovemaking increased. Several thrusts later, he lost control, and used his hold on Legolas’ hands to roll his lover onto his back. Rising above Legolas, he locked gazes with the Woodland Elf to make certain Legolas agreed with the changed position.

 

Legolas wrapped his legs around Éomer’s waist and his lover slid even deeper inside. “Harder… Harder, meleth… Make me yours!”

 

Eager to please his lover, Éomer complied. Panting hard, he delivered one deep stroke after another. For one terrible moment he thought he had hurt Legolas, when his lover screamed and trembled beneath him. But then contractions formed around his aching member and something warm dripped from his stomach. Éomer finally realized that his lover had come and stilled. A moment later, he screamed out himself – Legolas’ name – and climaxed.

 

The lovers remained locked in time for a moment and then Éomer collapsed atop of Legolas, who caught the Rohirrim and wrapped him in an embrace. Legolas savored the fact that Éomer was still inside of him – and still hard. Unexpectedly Éomer raised his head and locked eyes with him. Uncertainty looked back at him and Legolas hoped he knew the right words to take it away. “The next time, meleth, I want you to ride me – and ride me hard.”

 

The uncertainty disappeared and a smile appeared instead. “Do you enjoy being taken that much, my love?”

 

Legolas’ heart missed a beat; this was the first time Éomer had called him his love. “There is much pleasure in either role, meleth. Do not worry, in time I will take you in turn.” But for now, he felt it was best if Éomer did the taking – and he had always enjoyed being on the receiving end.

 

Éomer felt deeply grateful that he had been granted such a love and he kissed Legolas before speaking the ultimate vow, “I will love you until the day I die, Legolas. There will never be anyone else. I only love you.” Éomer rested his head on Legolas’ shoulder, feeling at peace and satiated.

 

“And I will always love you.” But always would end too quickly and Legolas was painfully aware of that.

 

Epilogue

 

 

“You must have known that this day would come,” whispered Elessar, trying to comfort his friend.

 

“That does not make it easier.” Legolas tried to act composed, but his heart was shattering into tiny pieces. The day of farewell had come – Éomer was dying and would not live to see the next morning.

 

Éomer only had eyes for his lover – a lover who had remained unaffected by the passage of time. Legolas still looked eternally young, his hair shone golden and his skin resembled alabaster. Throughout the years he had learned how much strength, courage and determination was housed in that lithe body and Legolas had always been his confidant – the one he drew strength from when he had none left himself. “Please do not look at me.” He even tried turning his head away from Legolas, but his beloved wouldn’t allow it. “I know how I look – how old I look to you.”

 

Legolas forced a gentle smile onto his face whilst all he really wanted to do was scream his pain to the heavens. “You are the one I love, meleth. That never changed. In my eyes, you are still young and strong.” Éomer’s hair had turned white during these last few years. The skin had aged and winkles had formed, but the hazel eyes had never lost their sparkle.

 

“I do not understand how you can look at me with such love in your eyes.” Éomer’s hand, tormented by tremors, searched and found Legolas’ and he curled his fingers around them. Legolas had always looked at him like that, even when he had no longer been able to pleasure his lover because his aged body refused to cooperate. He was ninety-three years old now and was convinced that he had only reached this high age because Legolas had loved him that much. But now the time had come to say goodbye. He was tired and longed for eternal sleep. “Legolas, let me go.”

 

Legolas shook his head. “I can not do that. I need you. I love you.” He caved in and the tears he had been holding back finally left his eyes. “You cannot leave me behind! I won’t allow it!”

 

“Elessar… Aragorn, my old friend, you must help me.” Éomer locked gazes with Elessar. “Promise me that you will be there for Legolas whilst he mourns my death.”

 

Elessar covered Éomer’s hand with his and rubbed the knuckles in a soothing way. “I wish I could heal you from old age, my friend, but I cannot fight the passage of time.” He met Éomer’s pleading eyes and nodded. “I will be there for him. He won’t be alone.”

 

“Thank you,” whispered Éomer, growing weaker now that death was approaching. With his last strength, he conferred Elessar’s hand onto Legolas’. “My love, you must let me go now.”

 

Elessar, realizing Éomer was losing the fight for life, wrapped an arm around Legolas’ shaking frame. It would be easier on Éomer to finally let go once he was convinced that Legolas would be taken care of.

 

“Our love, our happiness passed by too quickly. I am not ready yet to let you go!” Legolas had not thought letting his mortal love go would be this hard. Éomer had been the flame, the fire that had kept his inner light burning so brightly and now that he had to let go, his inner fire was growing dim.

 

Éomer gifted Legolas with one last smile. His last words fled his lungs as he let go of life, but not without a last confirmation of his love. “I… only… loved you… Lego…” Death prevented him from speaking the beloved name fully and his eyes closed.

 

Legolas screamed his anguish and flung himself at his lover’s body. Cradling Éomer close, he cried bitter tears.

 

The flame, which had fueled his inner fire had died and left him behind – alone for all eternity.

 

The End


End file.
